


all and more

by sadzemnianwizard



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gender Non-Conforming Mollymauk, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadzemnianwizard/pseuds/sadzemnianwizard
Summary: Mister Caleb Widogast of Zeidel never thought he would find a love that burned so brilliantly, much less in the form of the town's newest resident: a forgetful purple tiefling.Written for the Widomauk Winter Exchange 2021.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Widomauk Winter Gift Exchange 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silkmouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silkmouse/gifts).



> Silk! I hope you enjoy this piece. I admit that I have never written a period piece before, but I had _so much_ fun with this one that I might just have to continue. <3
> 
> Thank you to [Ali (Meridas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/pseuds/Meridas) for arranging the exchange!

Mister Caleb Widogast of Zeidel found himself, as he did every day, in the library of his house, filled from floor to ceiling with books. The spines were worn, many cracked with age, but each treated with the utmost care. Caleb himself sat next to a large window, silhouetted by a cloudy gray sky - still bright enough to glint off of the baubles that decorated the shelves seemingly at random, although those who knew Caleb well knew of his memory and his ability to locate anything in the library. 

The floorboards creaked, and Caleb noted the sound of Missus Veth Brenatto humming as she drew near. She appeared a moment later, bearing a cream-colored teacup, coaster, and teapot, all of which were accented simply and elegantly in gold. Caleb shuffled around his papers and books to accommodate the arrival. 

As was practically tradition, she began to recount the gossip of the town. Caleb, ever polite, pretended to listen to her, only taking subconscious notes of any key information. Veth herself swirled around the room, acting out her retelling of Miss Calianna Mordsson of Berleben, who was supposed to have danced with someone at the most recent ball. Miss Mordsson (who happened to be a friend of Caleb’s) was so shy that no one could figure out with whom she had danced, Veth lamented, draping herself over the cushioned chair across from Caleb. 

Caleb took a sip of the tea. Strong, with no sugar - just the way he preferred it. He had little room for anything sweet in his life. 

He stilled suddenly, the teacup still resting on his lip as he caught a snippet of her ramble.

“--new people living in the old Fletchling residence, or so Mister Clay tells me.” Her keen eyes caught his sudden inactivity and narrowed ever so slightly. “Why, Caleb, you must go introduce yourself!” Veth continued to bustle around the room, inspecting various trinkets and baubles with only the lightest of touches. She stood on small ladders and stepstools placed to accommodate her halfling height, although she may not have recognized their intentional placement. Her slip into vernacular made him smile - it was not traditional for a lady to refer to a gentleman by his first name, but they had remained in each other’s company for long enough that it could do no harm. 

“And why on earth would I do that, Mrs. Brenatto?” Caleb’s pen continued to scratch on the surface of paper. In spite of their long-standing companionship, he always referred to her with respect - his own way of reminding her that she was worthy of respect. 

“Because I would like to visit, and you know perfectly well that I cannot do so until you do so, to introduce our household!” She spun around, hands on her hips as her yellow skirts swirled around her. 

“Is that a new dress?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Yes, it is,” she replied primly, “but don’t try to escape the subject!”

“Ms. Brenatto, when have you ever wanted to visit any of our neighbors?”

Veth swatted at him gently, smiling fondly. “Are you mocking me, Caleb?”

He glanced up at her, mouth tilting slightly upwards. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m curious to see what stories they may have to tell,” she said, spinning back towards the shelf. “To see if they have any news of Yeza.”

Ah, another piece of their troubled history together. Yeza was Veth’s husband and a soldier in the Queen’s Army - perhaps more accurately, a scientist involved with the military. His work kept them separated for much of the year, his duty to the crown taking precedence over all else. In spite of this, their marriage was a happy one. Although Veth’s trembling hands struggled to write, she carefully scratched out a letter to her husband each week, receiving his replies with the utmost joy. 

Caleb envied them, in a way. Although he knew of the toll the distance took on Veth, he wondered what it must be like to love someone so unconditionally. 

Knowing of that emotional toll, he found himself unable to refuse her request. “Alright, Mrs. Brenatto. I will go over tomorrow afternoon, so that I can introduce you the following day.”

Holding true to his promise, Caleb made his way over the next day. Much to Veth’s dismay, he didn’t take the carriage - it never made sense to him, to waste the time of another when he could walk himself. Besides, he always appreciated the time it gave him to think and clear his head. 

By the time he found himself arriving, Caleb was admittedly winded. Spending most of one’s day buried in books did not lend itself to aerobic health - an unfortunate fact which Caleb rarely considered until he found himself in situations like this one. 

He took a moment to check over himself. His hands ghosted over copper red hair tied back neatly in a low ponytail, checking for flyaways. He smoothed the front of his waistcoat and straightened his spine, taking a deep breath. 

Without further ado, he marched up the almost-white stone steps leading up to what had formerly been the Fletchling residence. He grasped the handle of the shined bronze knocker and knocked once, twice--

\--and suddenly the door was pulled open. Caleb stumbled forward just in time to see a proud figure standing before him. 

Smooth lavender skin accented irisless ruby eyes, glistening with mirth. Deep amethyst curls danced around elegantly curving horns; one curl that simply refused to stay put brushed his forehead. He wore a deep red waistcoat that might have been mistaken for black by a careless glance. His posture and style spoke of wealth, of power - the type that was not proven by riches and jewels, but was worn. 

“Hello,” the man said, eyes darting over Caleb. 

Caleb’s mouth dried instantly at the lovely lilt to the man’s voice. “Ah, good afternoon,” he said, still trying to recover from his momentary fumble and the shock of the visage in front of him. “I am Mister Caleb Widogast of Zeidel - one of your new neighbors, as it appears.”

Red eyes softened immediately, warming beautifully. “Ah, welcome, Mister Widogast. Please, by all means, come in.” The man stepped back and motioned inwards. Caleb bowed his head politely and entered, where he was promptly led to the drawing room. 

The room itself was not “beautiful” in the traditional sense of the word, although Caleb had to admit that much like the man who now guided him, it had a certain charm to it. A few faded gold decor pieces decorated the walls, which may have been white, but were now closer to an ivory shade. What Caleb had assumed to be green curtains framing cracked windows were actually vines, which twined down the window panes to brush the floor. 

“Pardon the appearance,” the man said, waving a hand at the room. “With the process of moving into this residence, I haven’t had the chance to address every room as of yet.” 

“It is of no consequence,” Caleb replied automatically. 

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the pair of couches. 

Caleb sank into deep maroon cushions, mirroring the man. “Thank you…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“Ah, curse this memory of mine,” the man chuckled. “My name is Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf, but Molly to my friends. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Widogast.” 

“And a pleasure to make yours, Mister Tealeaf.” Caleb twisted his hands in his lap, carefully placed so his movement was not visible to Molly. “What brings you to Wildemount?”

“I am an artist ever in search of inspiration, as I believe is in the very nature of artistry,” Molly said, hands twisting in front of him as if tracing colors through the air. “My muse is most often the people around me, which leads me to travel quite regularly 

“I see,” Caleb said, although he did not. Truthfully told, Caleb did not understand art well. He had always been one for research and reasoning. Even so, he believed there to be an unspoken allure in seeing someone appreciate their passions - even if he could not appreciate art itself, there was still beauty to be found. 

“And you, Mister Widogast?” Molly’s voice jolted him out of his own thoughts. 

“Ah, yes.” Caleb cleared his throat. “I am a linguist, studying the patterns of speech and how they are used today with respect to historical usage. I do not have the same proclivity to people as it seems you possess, Mister Tealeaf, as I spend much of my time alone or with Mrs. Brenatto.” Internally, Caleb knew that the few times he did venture out of his library were usually to study the patterns of speech of the people around him, especially when there were guests from other areas. 

“Please, it’s Molly to my friends. I see no need for formalities. And, might I inquire, who is Mrs. Brenatto? You do not share a last name, so I’m afraid I’ve no room for assumptions.”

“Mrs. Veth Brenatto of Felderwin is a dear friend of mine. Her husband, Mister Yeza Brenatto of Felderwin, is a soldier and is often away. He left her in my care, although I must admit that she often takes care of me.”

“Well, having heard of your companion, I feel it only fitting that you meet mine.” He twisted in his seat, tossing his feet over the cushion next to him. “Yasha,” he sang.

Padding on silent feet strode a well-muscled woman, so tall that she had to duck slightly to get through the door. Her hair was plaited down her back, fading from jet-black to an unearthly white at the tips. She wore trousers, pristinely pleated. 

“Mister Caleb Widogast of Zeidel, this is Lady Yasha Nydoorin of Iothia. And Yasha, if I might say, those trousers are the newest fashion in Paris, are they not?”

“Molly, you know I am no lady. And you know just as well that I see no sense in donning layers of skirts when I can move so much easier in trousers.” she said with a slight smile, mismatched eyes softening with fondness for her companion. Her voice was surprisingly soft for her size.

“Do you prefer Sir Yasha?” Molly teased.

She sighed. “Not particularly, although you must remember that there is no equivalent in your language.”

“Oh?” Caleb’s head perked up. “If I might inquire, what language do you speak?” 

“Celestial. I am the only speaker I know, unfortunately.”

“El fluth so el sou fli si thleat.” Caleb spoke slowly, carefully. “It el sleal co sem etha shiape.” 

“Co sooth ith,” Yasha responded with a smile - soft, but genuine. The words sounded like bells on her tongue, while they felt clunky on Caleb’s. “Opco am sop.”

“Oh, so we’re playing with languages now?” Molly asked with a laugh. “ ᖨᛮᗇᚣ ᚱᗖᚳᱡ, ᖨᛮѨᘸ ᙪ ᚾ ᘷѦᖧѦᚣ ᘾ”

“I admit, that is new to me,” Caleb replied. “What language is it?”

“I believe it is called Infernal. I’m afraid I don’t know much more about it, though,” he said with an apologetic smile. 

“No need to apologize, Mister Mollymauk,” Caleb said, returning his smile, wider than it had been before. “I believe you’ve given me my next research project.” He stood, pushing himself off his knees with a quiet groan, missing the way Molly’s eyes widened slightly. 

“Heading out already, Mister Widogast?” Yasha asked quietly, filling the silence while Molly recovered. 

“I’m afraid so,” Caleb replied with a nod. “Once I have a thought in my head, it’s often difficult to do anything else until I fully understand it. Besides, I ought to go, before Mrs. Brenatto begins to think I’ve been lost to the wilds.”

“Does that make us the wilds?” Molly said, laughing. 

“Perhaps so,” Caleb bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes full of mirth. “Good day, Mister Tealeaf and Cenhwe Nydoorin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Caleb says, "I am out of practice, but I hope you can still understands." Yasha responds with, "You speak well." 
> 
> Molly says, "Clever one, Caleb Widogast" in Infernal. 
> 
> The title Caleb used for Yasha is "Lady" directly translated from Celestial according to the translator linked below, but I have a running theory that Celestial is a language that doesn't use any gendered language, so uh... take that as you will. 
> 
> Infernal alphabet and quotes from [the Infernal Alphabet and Dictionary document](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_PIHrguOuxhLdHr7Psx5jXjQZVr3QKnb0rKyCK2I_Lc/edit) by [CrunchyWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites) from their fic [Twine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826527/chapters/39498232). I used [this Celestial Translator.](https://lingojam.com/D%26DCelestial)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** Caleb-typical trauma and Icky-thon's prior abusive behavior - neither are discussed in any detail.

“Caleb, dear, a message has come over for you,” Veth sang, dancing into Caleb’s office once again. 

“ _ Danke _ , Mrs. Brenatto,” Caleb replied, nose remaining resolutely in his book. She placed the letter at his elbow, bouncing on her heels for a moment. “Is there something else?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, a note of mischief creeping into her voice. “It’s just that you seem to be quite fond of Mister Tealeaf.” 

“I-” Caleb blinked, swallowing suddenly. He glanced up from his page, looking out the window. “Yes, I do enjoy his company.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, her smile evident in her speech. “I’ll leave you to read his letter.”

Caleb hummed noncommittally, but as soon as the door to his study closed, he immediately began shuffling his papers to make space for Molly’s letter. 

* * *

“You’re going to have to tell him eventually,” Yasha said, seated delicately near Molly. She crossed her legs, propping her book up on black pleated trousers. 

“Do I?” Molly moaned, draping himself over the back of the chaise. 

“Yes,” Yasha replied simply. “If you’re going to pursue him seriously, he needs to know.”

“I know,” he groaned. “I’m just afraid.”

“Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out what he will think.”

* * *

The paper itself was cream, thicker than most paper. Caleb suspected it to be drawing paper, but didn’t know enough to confirm it. Caleb turned it over, looking at the slightly shaky script that somehow endeared Molly even more to him. The crimson wax seal appeared to be of that of a sword and a flower, crossed in an X. He ran a finger gently over the impression, peeling it from the paper rather than breaking it. 

_ Mister Caleb Widogast of Zeidel: _

_ I would request your presence once again. I have a message of import to share with you. I do hope that it is no trouble and that you could find time this afternoon to grace us with your company.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf _

Caleb’s stomach dropped. He had overstepped, he was certain of it. Of course, although the letter itself still held all the formalities required by polite society, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. 

His usual calm walk over was hurried, his mind swirling with everything that might be wrong. He rapped urgently on the door; his suspicions growing deeper when it was Yasha who greeted him at the door rather than Molly. She wordlessly stepped back, gesturing him inwards, leading him to the same drawing room where he had first met them. Caleb settled himself on the now-familiar couch. Yasha sat not quite directly across from him, preferring instead to angle herself so she faced the door. 

The two waited in a tense silence - Caleb struck silent with anxiety, Yasha simply comfortable in her own silence. Caleb’s leg bounced violently, hands twisting with white knuckles. In his mind, he could hear the echoes of Ikithon’s footsteps, feel ghostly hands clasp his shoulder, the simple gesture tightening until it became painful. 

And suddenly, Molly rounded the corner, entering the room in a swirl of shimmering fabric. He wore a majestic ballgown, maroon silk against impossibly beautiful purple skin. It was easily the most luxurious gown Caleb had ever seen in his life. The off-shoulder sleeves puffed gently, cinching just above his elbows. The neckline revealed collarbones that seemed to be carved of amethyst, in between which a golden star glittered on its delicate golden chain. More golden chains adorned his curled horns, jingling slightly as he walked. The waist cinched in, an enchanting curve that met the billowing skirt, dragging slightly on the ground behind him. 

“Hello, Mister Caleb,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Caleb stood, stunned. “M-mister Mollymauk.” His jaw worked for a moment, searching for words. 

“I know this is not exactly usual,” Mollymauk blurted, “but in spite of today’s societal standards, we tieflings tend to be more free with our gender expression, preferring instead to wear that which we feel most comfortable in. Aasimars are much the same way, as Yasha does demonstrate. This era is so strict in the separation between the sexes, but I feel simply, so beautiful in gowns and so handsome in waistcoats, how could I choose only-”

“Mister Mollymauk,” Caleb interrupted.

Molly blinked. Yasha shifted ever so slightly, face unreadable. “I just needed you to see this,” Molly sighed. “If you intend to truly be any friend of mine, then you needed to see and to understand this.” 

Caleb paused for a moment, rubbing his jaw. “Mollymauk, in all the languages I have studied, I can think of none to sufficiently describe you, so I shall simply say this:

“You bewitch me wholly and truly. You are an exquisite creature, your beauty matched only by your elegance, and none of that is changed by the clothing that you choose to don.”

Molly immediately sighed, relief evident in every inch of his body as a smile spread across his face. Yasha relaxed almost imperceptibly. 

“But there is something you must also understand about me, Mollymauk.” Molly tensed again, knuckles pale lavender, buried in the fabric of his skirts. “Will you sit with me?” 

Molly sighed shakily, head shaking slightly. “Of course, Caleb. Of course.” Molly sat next to Caleb, arranging the skirts carefully and perfectly. 

“Mollymauk, I must tell you a story.” 

Caleb had no idea how long it took. It was rare that he completely lost track of time, his internal clock keeping him in check even during his studies, but as he told his tale of woe, it was easier to let the seconds, minutes, hours flow past. 

He told Molly about his parents, how their home had smelled of ginger and cinnamon and freshly baked bread, how they had been happy. He told Molly how he adored books, how he spent every waking moment in secondhand bookshops, how he found himself in the yellowed pages.

He told Molly about Trent Ikithon. How at first, it hadn’t been so bad, how Trent had been a mentor, a teacher, a friend. He told Molly about the first time Trent had hit him, carved the words into his body and mind, but how it hadn’t mattered, because he was  _ learning _ . 

He told Molly how he lost himself in those same pages where he had found himself. 

And then, how he had killed his parents. How Trent had pushed him, convinced him that the right thing to do, the  _ only  _ thing to do was to light the fire, how the fire was his friend, the smoke swirling around him, accepting him when nothing else ever would. 

He told him of the years lost, how he spent so much time in  _ nothingness _ only to find himself once again in those books.

How, on the days when he felt like he grasped his mind only by threads, he returned to those books again, but how he had found such joy in them. How they had become passion, instead of survival. 

When he stopped talking, his throat was dry. He looked up at Molly, terrified at what he might see. What he saw were red eyes brimming with tears and shaking purple hands. He looked to the side where Yasha sat, stoic as ever. 

“Caleb, I-” Molly took a shaking breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Caleb said numbly. “I understand.” He made to stand, but Molly grabbed his hand. 

“No, Caleb, please,” Molly said, looking up as a tear traced down his cheek. “Stay.”

Caleb sank back into the cushions silently.

“Caleb-” His voice cracked. “Caleb, I can’t begin to understand what you have gone through. I can make no claims to your pain. But what I can do is stay with you, to accompany you until the memories fade.” 

“That is the irony,” Calen replied hollowly. “I once thought myself to be blessed by my memory, but it is often a curse. It is impossible for me to forget.”

Molly took a deep breath, steadier now. He looked over at Yasha, eyes questioning. She bowed her head slightly, as if deferring to his choice. 

“You may be unable to forget, but I am unable to remember.” He sighed. “I’m told I was in an accident, which caused me to lose all of my memory up until a couple years ago. I met Yasha at the hospital.” His mouth worked, opened and closed, the words getting lost. “I could have been an entirely different person, and I might never know.”

Caleb placed a hand gently, hesitantly, onto Molly’s clasped hands. “I may not know your pain, but you are still Mollymauk Tealeaf to me, and that is the only person you need to be.”

The tears welled over, streaking down his cheeks. For a heartbeat, Caleb feared he had said the wrong thing, before Molly tumbled over into his lap, crying. Caleb stroked through his curls, murmuring gently in Zemnian, and hoped that he was enough. 


	3. Chapter 3

“I believe this blend is particularly well-known in the Republic of Tal’dorei some years ago,” Caleb said, pouring tea carefully into two chipped ivory and gold-lined tea cups. 

He sat in the now-familiar drawing room, sunlight dancing through the vines and cracked windows. Yasha sat across from him, her journal placed carefully on the table away from the teapot and cups. 

Caleb set down the teapot gently, gesturing to one of the cups for Yasha and picking up the other himself. Her large hand dwarfed the teacup, which she held ever so delicately. The two sipped, savoring the delicate flavors. 

As he moved to set down his cup, Molly scrambled into the room, clothes disheveled and curly hair in disarray. “Caleb,” he said, breathing hard. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. I need you.”

Caleb jumped slightly, but not enough to spill his tea. “Mister Mollymauk,” he said, head bowing slightly - just enough to conceal the shock in his eyes at Molly’s candor. “How can I help you?”

“You’re my muse, Caleb,” Molly said, circling the couch, eyes wide. “You’re my muse, and I need you to sit for a painting.” 

“I do not think I am fit for a portrait, Mollymauk,” Caleb said with a sigh. “I am no model.”

“But Caleb, you’re my  _ muse _ ,” he repeated. 

“You may consider giving in,” Yasha said, smiling. “I’ve learned that he isn’t one to give up, once he’s like this.”

“First of all, there is no ‘like this’,” Molly said. “I’m simply inspired.” He stuck his chin up into the air, striking an overdramatic haughty pose.

“Like I said, Caleb.” Yasha turned back towards Caleb, taking a sip of her tea. 

“Well seeing as how there is no escape for me,” Caleb laughed. “If I had a warning, I would have brought a book.”

“Or, I propose another plan,” Molly replied, resuming his dance around the couches. “I shall invite myself over to yours, in order to see you in your natural habitat.”

“Well then, I should leave now, in order to warn Mrs. Brenatto of your arrival.” Caleb stood, brushing the wrinkles out of his waistcoat.

“I’ll take care of your tea set,” Yasha said, picking up her teacup again with a half-hidden smile. “I’m not done with my tea.”

The walk home was hurried, with no time for any of his usual thoughts. “Mrs. Brenatto,” he called out upon his arrival.

“Hello, Caleb!” she cried. “I’m in the kitchen!”

He made his way there to see her standing on a stool by the counter, kneading dough vigorously. “Making Yeza’s favorite again?” 

“Yes,” she said, smiling with a tinge of sadness. “I missed him today, and we were out of bread anyways.” 

“Well, I suppose I may have something that will help.” He leaned against the counter, facing away from her to conceal his smile. 

“Oh?”

“Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf will be making an appearance,” Caleb said. “He’ll be arriving shortly.”

“He’s coming here?” she screeched. “I haven’t cleaned, and in this dress?”

“Mrs. Brenatto, the house is fine, and so are you,” Caleb laughed, finally turning around. “There is no need to worry. Mollymauk is not one to judge.”

“Calling him Mollymauk already?” she shot back, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “You two must be close.”

“Go change, if you’re worried about it,” he said. “You’ve been looking for an opportunity to show it off, have you not? I’ll be in the library, awaiting his arrival.”

Caleb left the door open, hoping he would be able to hear and intercept Molly before Veth caught him unexpectedly. 

He took a look around, suddenly anxious. What would Molly think? What could be said of his trinkets and baubles, of his books and papers? He moved a table and a stool into the center of the room - both of which were usually used by Veth, but which he hoped would be sufficient for Molly. 

Before he could come to any further conclusions, he heard the clatter that undoubtedly announced Molly’s arrival. 

“Molly,” he said, darting into the entryway. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

“I’m so happy to be here,” Molly said, arms laden with his canvas and board, paint brushes sticking out of his bag. “I would ask if I could meet  _ the _ Mrs. Brenatto I’ve heard so much about, but I think it might be wiser for me to set down my load first.”

“Of course,” Caleb said. “The library is this way.”

Molly almost tripped over his own feet as he entered the library, eyes tracing over every shelf. “Caleb, this is amazing. This place is beautiful.”

_ It is nothing, compared to you, _ Caleb thought, the words caught in his throat. “I hope that this will be sufficient for you,” he said instead, gesturing to the table and stool. 

“It is absolutely perfect,” Molly said with a dazzling smile, setting down his load. He turned, locking eyes with Caleb, and the two of them stayed like that for just a moment before a slight noise came from behind them. 

Caleb cleared his throat, looking down suddenly. “Ah, Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf, if I might introduce you to Mrs. Veth Brenatto of Felderwin. Mrs. Brenatto, Mister Tealeaf.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Tealeaf,” Veth said with a wobbly curtsy, once again wearing her new yellow dress. 

“Please, it’s Molly to my friends, and we certainly are friends now,” Molly replied with a bow. 

“Then I insist you call me Veth,” she giggled. 

“Well then, Veth, I must compliment you on your beautiful home.” Molly once again looked around the room.

“I must admit, this room is mostly Caleb’s doing,” she said, following his gaze. “And that being said, I will leave you both to your work.” She shot Caleb a pointed look on her way out, giggling in a swirl of skirts. 

They stood for a moment in silence.

“Would you like to get started?” Caleb asked. 

Molly jumped slightly. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“I’m afraid you may have to give me some directions,” Caleb said bashfully. “As I said, I’m not a model.” 

“That’s the beautiful thing about art.” Molly turned to his bag, pulling out jars of paints and setting them on the table. “There are no instructions. There is only the truth.” 

“I’m afraid that doesn’t help me much,” Caleb laughed softly. 

“Pretend like I’m not here,” Molly said, assembling a wooden stand for the canvas. “Do exactly what you normally would.”

It took more time than it usually would for Caleb to settle into his books. The afternoon light that shone through the window was dimmed by the sun that was Molly. He spent a few minutes reading the same page over and over, trying his hardest not to look over at Molly. 

“Something’s off,” Molly’s voice floated over. “Just relax.”

_ As if I could relax with you watching me,  _ Caleb thought. 

“Think of something that makes you happy. Then, keep thinking about that, and relax. Read.” 

_ You.  _ Caleb tried to hide his smile, bowing his head. He let thoughts of Molly fill his mind. Of his smile. Of how  _ stunning _ he had been in that dress. Of how the sunlight reflected off scarlet eyes, and-

“That. That’s it. Now, hold it.” 

Mind still lingering on Molly’s laugh, Caleb opened up a book. Today, he had selected a number of books on Infernal. The noise of paintbrush on canvas was strangely comforting, meshing well with the familiar sounds of the scratching of his pen nibs and the shifting of paper. 

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Caleb was brought slightly out of his academic-induced haze by Molly swearing. 

“ _ Was- _ are you okay?”

“Yes, Caleb,” Molly said, voice higher than usual. “I just- I got some paint on your table.” 

“It is nothing, Mister Mollymauk,” Caleb replied, setting down his pen. “There is no need for concern.”

“But your tables are so nice, and I didn’t mean to, and-” Molly rambled. 

“I mean it, Mollymauk. I don’t mind at all.” He truly didn’t mind. If anything, he was thrilled to have a more permanent reminder of Molly’s presence. “Although I will ask, do you mind if I see what you have painted so far?”

“Only if you’ll tell me how your research is going,” Molly said, suddenly looking nervous. “Although I will remind you that it is not a finished piece yet.”

Caleb stood, pushing back his books slightly. He walked around the table to Molly’s side and saw… himself. 

Well, not himself as he knew him. The portrait was absolutely beautiful, a word he never thought he would be able to associate with himself. In the eyes, he could see worlds unknown, worlds that even he himself didn’t know. 

He stood for a moment, taking in this portrait. “It’s beautiful.” He took a deep breath. “Is this truly how you see me?”

“No,” Molly said simply. “You’re much more beautiful. It would be impossible to capture your brilliance in any painting.”

Caleb took another breath. “ ᖨᗇ ᏍѦᚱѦᚳ'Ѧᙪᗄ .” 

Molly’s jaw dropped. 

“ ᖨᗇ ᏍѦᚱѦᚳ'Ѧᙪᗄ ,” Caleb repeated. “I love you.” 

“ ᖨᗇ ᏍѦᚱѦᚳ'Ѧᙪᗄ ,” Molly said, eyes wide with a soft smile, still shocked. “I love you too.” Without any further words, Molly slammed into his chest, wrapping his arms around Caleb. After a heartbeat, Caleb returned the embrace, pressing a chaste kiss on one of Molly’s horns. Molly leaned back slightly, hands resting gently on Caleb’s waist, eyes looking up into Caleb’s. “Mister Caleb.”

Caleb rested one hand to the base of Molly’s spine. “Mister Mollymauk,” he said, eyes sparkling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Caleb’s stomach fluttered; his heart started to race. 

“If not, that’s okay, I just-”

Caleb pulled Molly in, his other hand tilting up his chin a bit further as he leant down and pressed their lips firmly together. Molly slid his hands up, pulling at the collar of Caleb’s waistcoat. They remained locked together, the kiss growing passionate. 

They separated after a moment, both breathing hard. 

“Mister Mollymauk,” Caleb started. 

“Mister Caleb,” Molly replied quickly with a cheeky grin. 

“Would you like a tour of the rest of the house? Perhaps I can show you some of the more private rooms we have here.” Caleb did his best to keep a straight face, but his smile continued to grow. 

“Leaving the library? Whatever shall we do to remain occupied?” Molly was barely containing his laughter. 

“I’m sure we can think of something.” Caleb offered Molly his arm. With a slight bow, Molly took it, and the two made their way out of the library. 

**Author's Note:**

> test end notes


End file.
